


Nothing Blooms

by Ritsy



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Creepy, Death, Ice Play, M/M, Plot Twists, Shameless Smut, Stalking, waxing poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ritsy/pseuds/Ritsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death is calling; Ciel is waiting for Death to come. When the two finally meet, what will happen? Why is Death following Ciel, and... Why does it excite Ciel?<br/>The only way to find out is to read. One shot, SebaCiel, Explicit for a reason (smut, glorious smut). Enjoy the twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Blooms

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SebasuchansKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebasuchansKitten/gifts).



> A/N: My sweet little kitten, this one shot is for you. I really hope you love it, darling, because I tried my best to make it perfect for you. I love you to the moon and back.  
> As for my readers, I hope you enjoy this short story, as I worked very hard on it. I finished it in a day, much to my surprise. My plans are to write several one shots to help get my creative blood flowing to benefit my multi-chapter stories. I hope this is up to par!  
> Please enjoy~

Where he walks, no flowers bloom. He is silent as the lifeless night, blacker than pitch, and colder than ice. Tall and slender, he hides beneath a shroud of twilight, his skin as frosty as the stars. His predatory eyes are alive with a steady inferno, burning carmine depths swirling with smoldering hellfire. His presence is chilling, seeping a bitter cold into the air around him and stealing from it the warmth of life. Slowly, he creeps, stalking through the shadows, remaining hidden from prying eyes. He hunts his prey in silence, waiting for the Grandfather clock to tick down to its final toll before he strikes.

He is Death, and he's been following me.

I have no idea when it started, but I remember the first time I had ever seen him, his presence drawing me in like a moth to a flame. 7 years ago, on my tenth birthday, I perched upon the cushioning of the bay window, a heavy old tome resting on my lap; it was a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's works, and my favorite book. I had been reading, fully engrossed in the text to the point that not even an explosion would have gotten my attention. A creeping chill silently slid over me, curling me in its tight grasp. Unwillingly, my eyes left the page, the frigidity in the air pulling me out of the story and drawing my gaze outside. There were no cars on the street, no children out playing, and only a few prematurely fallen leaves danced on the asphalt as a sudden breeze blew. Fall was nearing, and the leaves of the trees were just beginning to change from shades of green to the amber, titian, and burgundy of fall. The sun was shining high in the sky cheerily, lighting up everything it touched, except for the woods. Trees sat close together, their foliage forming a dense canopy that shielded the entire forest from the light. The whole thicket seemed to be shrouded in obsidian, something that should have been impossible, no matter how full the leaves were. The sun was swollen with luminosity, and seeing as it was the brightest time of the day, light should have touched everything. The woods seemed impenetrable; even I could not see beyond the beginning of the trees. I squinted my eyes, trying to somehow will my way into seeing past the gloom.

I saw him then; aphotic as he was, he stood out starkly from the total eclipse of the woods. Perhaps it was the corpse-like alabaster of his skin, or his sanguine eyes that seemed to possess an eerie crimson glow. Or maybe it was that the thick cloud of shadows that cloaked him were even darker than the deep forest around him. He was staring at me, watching me with those smoldering orbs. A cruel smirk curled his pale lips, and the fingers of fear crept along my spine, settling in my bones and freezing me. Panic took hold of me, and I sucked in a breath, readying myself to scream for my mother. Just as I could feel the terror-stricken shout rising in my throat, he vanished into thin air. My yell died in my chest, and I stared in confusion at the spot he used to be. The woods seemed brighter, little rays of sunlight filtering in through the canopy of leaves, where before nothing had penetrated the darkness. I did not tell my mother; she would have forced me to stop indulging in the dark and twisted stories of Edgar Allen Poe, insisting that it was warping my imagination into a contorted place.

I thought I had imagined Death; how naïve I had been then.

Death grew bolder as the years passed, and he visited me on every birthday following the first like clockwork. He stalked me, slowly moved ever closer to my house. The sunlight did not touch him; it seemed to refuse in fear of disappearing into the inky void he was surrounded in. Every year I would sit at the window, watching and waiting for him to appear, knowing he was there, just beyond my sight. I had realised long ago that I was not imagining his haunting presence, and some innate instinct in me knew that the specter was Death incarnate, rather than another supernatural creature. It was as if the whole thing was a game to him; he would reveal himself for such a short period of time, and to only me. He would strike fear into my heart, leaving as fast as he had come. I began to wonder why he would do such a thing, but the simplicity of the answer took my breath away.

Death was coming for me; and there was no escape from him..

Just outside of the glass stood Death; I stared into his burning sanguine eyes for a long moment, feeling the edges of my soul being scorched by his hellfire gaze. Leaning closer to the window, my soft exhalation fogged up the clear glass, and his icy chill frosted it over. I placed one dainty hand upon the cold barrier that separated us, and I studied his appearance, finally getting a clear enough view to do so. He was frighteningly beautiful, his carmine eyes lined with coal lashes, face composed of sharp angles and high cheekbones. His skin lacked color, ivory and translucent; the miniscule branches of blue veins could be faintly seen through his flesh. Did Death have a beating heart within his chest, pumping sluggish blood through his frozen arteries? My tongue darted out to wet my lips as I met his eyes, and I parted the pink petals, opening my mouth to speak to him. He faded from my sight before a single sound could pour from me.

The day Death appeared in my house was the day I stopped waiting at the bay window for him. He stood in the corner of the living room, near the front door. His presence seemed to chill the air, sucking the light out of his surroundings. I stood at the bottom of the steps, my slender hand resting upon the bannister as I met his gaze head on. A fluttering of an unknown feeling made my body tremble; where had the fear gone? When had the terror he evoked fled from me? His face drew my sapphire orbs, and as I studied him once again, he disappeared. It was as if he were trying to remain faceless in my eyes, but it did not matter; his visage was burned into my memory, never to be forgotten.

The day of my seventeenth birthday, I did not see Death. There were no aphotic spots, lacking any warmth. I didn't catch the glimpse of the sanguine eyes of a predator, nor the pale skin of a corpse. Where relief should have flooded me, there was only disappointment. Confusion ate at me, and questions swirled endlessly in my brain. Where was Death? Why was I disappointed? Would I never see him again? I spent the entire day in a state of perpetual gloom, though my mother seemed not to notice, as she always told me that I was a dour child. That night, I morosely trudged up the stairs to my room, my body heavy with exhaustion and discontent. I stripped down to my boxers and crawled into bed, curling into a ball beneath the comforter. My eyes closed tightly, and sadness seem to bite at me. My lip trembled, and a lump grew in my throat. I felt his chill then, creeping into my sheets with me, caressing my bare skin, and my eyes snapped open in shock. My room was completely dark, an inkblot on a sheet of paper, but still I could see him. He stood in the middle of my room, his orbs glowing crimson as he gazed upon me. Death stared at me, his hellfire eyes seeming subdued with an immeasurable sorrow. Bewilderment overtook me, and I sat up, letting the blanket fall from me as I met his eyes. What had Death to be melancholy about? His expression was contorted slightly, and rather than the smirk he used to give me, I watched as his lips curled down into a frown of pain. I wondered if Death truly enjoyed being Death, or if he wore a false smile as a façade to protect his heart. If everyone hated Death, would it ease the pain of stealing the light from their eyes? I opened my mouth, a small whisper of sound leaving my parted lips, and he disappeared. I was left with more questions than there were answers, and a heart heavy with a tempest of emotions felt for Death.

* * *

My 18th year on earth would be my very last.

Night had fallen, and I sat upon my bed, waiting for Death to come for me, as I knew he would. A full-length mirror leaned against the wall of my room across from my bed, and I stared at my reflection with haunted pools of sapphire. My feet hung over the edge of the mattress, barely able to touch the floor; my legs were short and slender, though my thighs were quite thick though still possessing a gap, one crossed over the other in patience. My body was dainty, lithe and feminine-esque, my waist possessing the covetous curves that any girl would kill for. I was so thin that my bones prominently jutted out beneath my flesh, creating divots and depressions. The moonlight that spilled in from my window highlighted and shadowed the indentations of my body. Dainty hands sat folded in my lap, slim fingers curling into my skin. My neck was long and elegant, connecting through the smooth junction to my rounded shoulders. My eyes flickered up to my heart-shaped face, taking in my high cheekbones, my pouty full pink lips, my obscenely long black lashes, that dusted over the flesh stretched over my cheeks each time I blinked. My eyes were large and almond-shaped, the orbs contained deep shades of swirling blues. Blae locks framed my face, my fringe falling forward heavily in front of my right eye. My hair was thick and straight, the color of a star-filled twilight sky. I wore only boxers, and my eyes traced over the flesh that wrapped tightly over my muscles. Not a single flaw could be seen on my porcelain skin, though my cheeks were flushed with the rosy tinge of life. I darted my tongue over my lips to wet them, parting them and sucking in a deep breath, watching my chest rise and fall. My pulse throbbed beneath my skin, blood pumping through the collection of veins and arteries beneath. I was alive, though I would not be for long. Odd that the thought did not ignite fear in me, as it should have. All that I felt was peace; the calm before the storm.

I felt his chilling presence before I saw him. Shadows swallowed the moonlight, leaving my room in a darkness I had never witnessed before. The swirling shrouds converged together, forming the tall, graceful body of Death. He stood before me, swathed in his aphotic cloak, not even a foot away from me. Raising a gloved hand towards me, his long, slender fingers ghosted over my skin, starting at my cheek and trailing down my neck, following the line of my prominent clavicle before stopping at the end of my shoulder and falling limply to his side. His digits left trails of frost in their wake, though he had not touched me, and I shivered. Something came alive in me, a flickering flame of passion igniting and smoldering, hotter and hotter, until it threatened to consume me.

I was not afraid of Death.

"Are you going to kill me?" I inquired, my voice a soft and tremulous whisper.

His sanguine eyes met mine as I tilted my head up to gaze upon his face. Impenetrable silence fell over us, thick and suffocating. His pale lips parted, showing a flash of immaculate achromatic teeth. "Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive, cause of death: asphyxiation and burning. A faulty wire sparks and catches fire, the entire house going up in flames. The roaring inferno spreads fast, blocking off their only escape routes, though they do not rouse from sleep; within minutes, the two are swallowed up in the blaze, smoke clogging their lungs and making it impossible to breathe. Their son, Ciel Phantomhive, manages to escape and is the only survivor." Death's voice is liquid velvet as he states this matter-of-factly, containing every emotion, and yet lacking them. It sounds as though he is reciting from a book, something that he has poured over countless times and memorised.

Once again, he has succeeded in confusing me. I tilt my head to the side, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth and worrying it between my teeth. "If that is so, then why is it me that you have been stalking?"

Death moves fractionally closer to me, the cold that surrounds him seeping into my bones and threatening to never leave. "Your death was marked as the day of your birth; I witnessed you coming into life, expecting to smother the breath from your lungs before you had a chance to draw it in. Yet, your very existence intrigued me; I could not bear the idea of stealing your life away before you had yet to live. And so I rewrote the books, allowing you to live; but one cannot make changes without consequences. My allowing you to live meant that your parents had to succumb to my cold embrace.

"I watched you as you grew into a charmingly gloomy young man. I witnessed your parents fret over your quirks as if they were something to be frowned upon; you spoke of me as a young child, and they worried you had some sort of mental illness. I had to stop revealing myself to you, and you forgot me as one would forget their imaginary friend. I began to watch you from afar, curiosity making me draw nearer as the years fled by. I tested the waters, allowed you to glimpse me once more; you kept it to yourself, and so I became daring. I have been drawn to you since the very first time I laid eyes on you," he murmured, his voice tormented at the thought.

A shiver worked its way through me, though it had nothing to do with the cold he produced. Licking my lips, I leaned forward slightly. "Do you have a name?"

"I am simply Death; but you may call me by whatever you wish," he answered simply.

"Mm," I hummed in thought, tapping my finger against my chin. "Sebastian, then."

His lips quirked into the ghost of a smirk, and his head inclined slightly. "Why Sebastian?"

"Because I have always wanted a dog, and if I had, that was what I would have named him," I mused, the corner of my lips tugging up into a snarky half-smile.

My simple statement brought a surprised chuckle from him, and his eyes lit up with smoldering fire, as if I had only served to intrigue him further. Our orbs locked once more, and my breath hitched in my throat as the simple meeting of eyes seemed to excite me.

"Ciel," he breathed, his voice wavering with an emotion that must have dawned on him for the first time.

The way he said my name made my mind up for me; I slid from my perch, standing up to my full height, which was only a sad 4'11". My hands came forward, curling around his wrists before I hooked my fingers in his gloves and pulled them off. As they fell to the floor, a tiny purr danced in my throat as I murmured, "Sebastian."

Whatever had been holding him back snapped, and he finally let shaking fingers brush my skin. It was as though he had wanted nothing more than to caress my skin, and now that he finally could, his emotions were coming to a head. Icy digits ran in meaningless paths over my flesh, trailing over my chest, ghosting over pert nipples, making their way down my torso until they found purchase in my hips. I allowed him to gently push me back until I was sprawled out on top of my mattress, his hands never leaving my skin. I let mine slide up his arms, over his broad shoulders, and to the front of his cloak, shaking fingers hesitantly undoing each button until I was able to push the shroud down, exposing his alabaster flesh. The shadows danced and pooled on the floor at his feet, nipping frostbite at my fingertips. I took in the sight of him, drinking him in like he was a glass of cold water, and I was dehydrated. He was muscular, but not overly so, his taught flesh encasing his hard-packed muscles. His waist was slim, tapering down into prominent hipbones and strong legs. His stomach was strongly defined with abs, the sharp v leading down to his thick and shapely dick. My breathing increased tenfold, and I ran my tongue over my dry lips, wanting to touch him, lick him, taste him.

His long fingers hooked onto the waistband of my boxers as he gave a sharp tug, yanking them down my legs and allowing them to fall to the floor, exposing all of my nude glory to his hungry eyes. I lifted up a leg, curling it around his waist and pulling him closer until he fell on top of me, one of his hands leaving my flesh so that he could support his weight and avoid crushing me.

"Kiss me," I whimpered softly, longing to feel the deathly chill of his lips upon mine. He complied easily and without hesitation, swooping down like a vulture and capturing my lips. Fire and ice met, creating a steamy kiss; his tongue ran along the seam, asking silently for entry, and I complied, letting my mouth fall open. He explored my moist cavern, his frozen muscle coaxing mine into life. His mouth was frigid, and I wanted nothing more than to set him alight with my fire. Our tongues danced together passionately, mine running over his teeth, his flicking up against the roof of my mouth. He left me breathless, wanting more of him.

Sebastian broke the kiss, pulling away from me slightly, and I drew in a gasping breath; a strand of saliva still connected us, and a thrilling shiver danced along my spine. His body pressed into mine, the extremes of our temperatures mixing and creating a tingling sensation all over my flesh.

"Ciel," he purred, his velvet voice husky with desirous lust. Death would be my undoing.

He was positioned between my quivering thighs, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space between us. Our bodies fit together like matching puzzle pieces, a thought that made my heart soar. His hand on my hip slid lower, fingertips trailing over my turgid flesh, drawing a soft mewl from my parted lips. The digits moved farther back, circling my twitching ring of rosy flesh, prodding lightly at my entrance teasingly. A whine rose in my throat, and I rolled my hips, pushing myself against his frozen hand.

"P-Please, Sebastian," I begged, stuttering over the word as my voice trembled uncontrollably.

He leaned closer to me, his cold lips brushing against the lobe of my ear, inciting another round of shivers and igniting a boiling flame in my lower stomach. His tongue flickered out against my piercing, grazing flesh as he whispered, "With pleasure."

Without any preamble, he pierced my entrance with two fingers, the icy digits soothing the sting of pain. They curled within me, scissoring and exploring, searching for my sweet spots. I moaned heavily, my head lolling back slightly as he stretched me until I was suitable for his monstrous dick. Fingertips brushed against my prostate, causing my back to arch sharply and a breathless mewl to flee past my lips. I bucked into his fingers, begging for more as I writhed atop the mattress, mussing up the sheets. Too soon, his fingers slid out of me, leaving me groaning at the loss. I wasn't disappointed for long as he lined up his rock hard erection with my twitching entrance. I held the air in my lungs, frozen with anticipation; I dug my nails into his shoulder blades, spurring him on. I felt the tip of his dick graze my hole, and I tensed up, excitement curling in my stomach as the head began to push into me. With any other, I was sure that this would have been unbearably painful without lubrication of any kind, but his body temperature was so frigid that it numbed the pain before it could even begin. The ice in his veins made my body hypersensitive, and I could feel every ridge and vein of his cock as he impaled me. I moaned brokenly, my body arching up and into his, our chests brushing together. As soon as he had fully sheathed himself, he pulled out until only the head was left before slamming back into me. Sebastian built up a steady rhythm, burying his turgid flesh deep within me and brushing against the bundle of nerves that made my dick ache. Moans pealed from my throat, increasing in loudness as he slammed into me; I bucked and rolled my hips, meeting his and helping him impale me. His breaths came in quick, shallow pants, groans of pleasure floating past his lips as my walls tightened around his dick, milking him. His lips came down upon mine, swallowing the mewls of his name that rumbled in my chest like the purr of a cat. He dominated my mouth with his tongue, setting me on fire with ecstasy.

Sebastian dug his fingers into my hips with a bruising grip, stilling my hips as he began thrusting faster and harder into my greedy hole without my having to ask. My nails sunk into the flesh of his back, claws digging into him and tearing down, leaving behind red welts. Blood wept from the wounds, staining my fingertips. I curled both of my legs around his waist, tightening them around him, and clinging onto him as he slammed into me. My heart pounded in my chest, and through his back I could feel the steady beat of his own cardiac muscle. I idly thought about how that meant he was alive and most likely immortal, before all thoughts scattered in my brain as the head of his dick jabbed straight into my prostate when he angled his hips. I moaned his name heavily, almost screaming my voice raw with animalistic pleasure. My lower stomach began coiling tightly, like a spring with too much tension, and I threw my head back into the mattress. My muscles contracted around his swollen erection as the coil snapped, my dick spurting semen, coating my own chest and his lower stomach. Unintelligible and broken moans of his name ripped from my throat, my back arching sharply as wave after wave of my orgasm washed over me. I purposefully clenched and unclenched my hole in rapid succession, urging him into his undoing. With a final, harsh thrust, he slammed into the bundle of nerves and came, coating my insides with his freezing seed. The sensation combined with the aftershocks of my release were almost too much to bear. Slowly, he pulled his softening member out of me so that he could lay beside me on the bed. Everywhere our skin touched, fire met ice, making gooseflesh rise and sending sensual tingles throughout our bodies.

Once our breathing slowed, he sat up, his smoldering sanguine eyes meeting my fathomless sapphire orbs. I could sense that he was torn between doing his duty and staying with me, so I rose from my position, turning my body so that I was on my knees. I leaned towards him, my hands coming up to cup his cheeks, my lips brushing his.

"Rewrite the books, Sebastian," I whispered against his skin, my nails digging into his flesh. "Take me with you."

"I hereby decree a change in the books of Life and Death," Sebastian murmured, his voice grave. "Ciel Phantomhive, cause of death: unknown. No fire starts from the spark of a faulty wire, and Rachel and Vincent Phantomhive live. The boy dies mysteriously in his sleep. So it is spoken, so mote it be."

I bite my bottom lip hard, worrying it between my teeth. Hopefully my parents won't be too sad. "What happens now?" I murmur, uncertainty lacing my voice.

"You leave behind your mortal shell."

Quite suddenly, Sebastian's hand shoots out, going straight through my chest. I feel a strange sense of separating, and a soft thudding of something hitting the mattress behind me causes me to stir. My eyes widen as I gaze upon the lifeless husk that looks exactly like me. My hands fly up to my own face, and yet I still feel as solid as Sebastian does to me. I turn back to him, my head tilting to the side as I give him a questioning look.

"I'm still warm?" I inquire, unsure of myself. "And solid?"

Sebastian nods his head, a small smirk curling his lips. "You and I are very much alive, Ciel. I have given you an immortal body, as mine is. But mine will forever be cold, for I am Death."

He is ice, and I am fire. Shadows rise from the floor, swirling to form two separate aphotic cloaks. They swathe us, and the moon beckons us out into the night. We leave what was once my home, and I don't look back. Hand in hand, we walk; I am not afraid of Death.

* * *

Where he walks, no flowers bloom. He is silent as the lifeless night, blacker than pitch, and colder than ice. Tall and slender, he hides beneath a shroud of twilight, his skin as frosty as the stars. His predatory eyes are alive with a steady inferno, burning carmine depths swirling with smoldering hellfire. His presence is chilling, seeping a bitter cold into the air around him and stealing from it the warmth of life. Slowly, he creeps, stalking through the shadows, remaining hidden from prying eyes. He hunts his prey in silence, waiting for the Grandfather clock to tick down to its final toll before he strikes.

He is Death, and now I am following him. I am his shadow; cloaked in an eclipse of shadows as chilling as the arctic depths of an iced-over lake in the midst of winter, I move with the silence of a moment frozen in time. Together we walk this earth in search of the clock of life that strikes midnight for the final time; no longer is Death lonely or sorrowful. The pain of taking life after life is eased by companionship, and the flame of eternal love that will never dim or burn out. And as I tread beside him, I take only one glance behind me, at the path that we have carved.

Where we walk, no flowers bloom. He is Death, and I am his shadow.

END

**Author's Note:**

> E/N: Well, lovey, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. And my sweet readers, please leave comments and let me know what you think of this story. Would you like to see more one shots in the future? (I certainly hope so because I'm going to write them anyway.)  
> Kisses and Love, Always Love, Ritsy


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